


Don't Let Me Get Me

by SnarkyBadger



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: F/M, Frank Discussions of Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Major Depression, Mention of Hospital Commitment, Mentions of Fat-Shaming, Passing Mention of a Pedophile, Reader Self Harms, Reader has Major Depression, Reader is Battling Depression, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, plus sized reader, reader has anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-05-29 17:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkyBadger/pseuds/SnarkyBadger
Summary: It's been a bad week. Lost your job, failed to find a new one despite several interviews, your depression has you in it's grips, your psychiatrist is an asshole, you just had people make pig noises at you and now there's a truck hurtling towards you. You close your eyes, ready for things to just STOP.... but a certain symbiote pair swings in to your rescue.*Trigger Warnings abound in this fic. There are stark mentions and discussions about depression, self harm, fat-shaming, bad doctors, bad hospitals and panic attacks.**Written to help me get over the near-death of my mother, when I was in the grips of panic attacks and the very real fear of almost losing her. (She's fine now, but that amount of stress isn't good for someone who has depression and anxiety)*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Again. *Trigger Warnings abound in this fic. There are stark mentions and discussions about depression, self harm, fat-shaming, bad doctors, bad hospitals and panic attacks. Reader's history with doctors, hospitals, dietitians and friends are based on my own dealings.*

.

.

.

It had been a bad week.  
  
First, you'd lost your job. It hadn't been a good job - verbally abusive boss, asshole coworkers - but you'd made enough money to afford a small apartment and your medications. Your psychiatrist had been in a foul mood and had basically given you an ultimatum - either stop cutting or stop going to see them. And, _and_ , your dietitian - that the psychiatrist had made you go to, because, apparently, body weight was attached to major depression - had called you a liar when you'd turned in your 'food journal', stating that no one who ate that way could possibly be fat.  
  
So now, jobless, feeling hopeless, alone, with no clue how to make that month's rent or how to afford the prescriptions you needed. Unable to cut yourself - the only bit of relief from the crushing emotional agony in your chest - and practically _starving_ but knowing that eating was bad, you were seriously wondering what the point was.  
  
You'd hit a new low that you didn't know existed. It _hurt_ , like spikes jutting into your chest, cold and heavy, making every step harder and harder. You'd woken up that morning feeling numb and broken, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of your apartment and lamenting the fact that you'd woken up at all.  
  
Fighting depression was a horrible six year battle that you were losing. The masks that you'd perfected to hide what you'd become were cracking under the pressure - some of the darkness that infected your mind must have shown, because none of the five job interviews had gone well.  
  
Now, it was raining, and you'd forgotten your umbrella. Such a small thing, really, but it was the straw that broke the camels back. Soaked to the skin, jeans and long sleeved blouse weighing double due to the water, you stood at a crosswalk, head hung low, water dripping from your bangs to lightly plop against your nose and cheeks.  
  
It was late, later than you'd realized, the sun almost gone below the horizon. You were close to the apartment at least, but too numb to care enough to make a run for it.  
  
So when the light finally changed, you shoved your hands into your pockets, shrugged a shoulder to adjust the bag strap there, then stepped into the crosswalk. A Mustang roared past, jeers from a group of young men sending a stab into you when, especially when one of them made pig noises.  
  
You stopped in the middle of the street, unable to cope with any more. Didn't hear the screeching of tires, but the light that illuminated you made you look up, staring blankly into the oncoming headlights of a truck that was trying to run the red light. Thought, distantly, that a normal person would move out of the way.  
  
All you saw as you stared at the rapidly nearing grill of the truck was freedom from the pain.  
  
You felt the heat from the engine, the headlights making you squint as they loomed in your vision before you let out a sigh and closed your eyes, body relaxing at the thought of everything finally, _finally_ , ending--  
  
But something huge slammed into you from behind, an arm wrapping tight around your waist as you were literally swooped off your feet.  
  
You howled like a broken thing, not from fear, but from sheer _disappointment_.  
  
Whoever had you wasn't human, no human was able to websling. Twisting in the person's grip gave you the sight of fangs and pale, pupil-less eyes. Well, wasn't that just the poisoned topping on a toxic cake? You were in Venom's grasp.  
  
He swung the two of you up, onto a nearby rooftop, and the second your feet touched the roof, you elbowed him as hard as you could in the stomach, wrenching yourself free when his grip on you lessened in surprise.  
  
" _Fuck it!_ Why couldn't you leave things _alone?!_ " you screamed at him, angrily throwing your bag down onto the ground before rounding on him, hands fisted at your sides.  
  
The huge, hulking, form gave you a confused look, one taloned hand reaching out as if to touch you. "BUT.... WE SAVED YOU."  
  
A normal person probably wouldn't have stood there and screamed at Venom, of all people, but you'd had just about enough of _everything_. Hollering at Venom was the least of the things that were fucked up in your life. "Who said I needed saving?!"  
  
"BUT THE TRUCK---"  
  
" _That was the point!_ " Your voice echoed through the rain, breath fogging in the cool air as you spun, snatched up your bag, and stomped towards what looked like a fire escape. "Go save someone who deserves to be saved!"  
  
Silence fell, only the sounds of your footsteps on the shingles audible over the sound of the rain. You could _feel_ Venom's gaze on your back, but ignored him, angry and disappointed and so bone weary _tired_ that all you wanted to do was sleep and never wake again. First things first though: getting your fat ass down the fire escape.  
  
You'd just swung your leg over the ledge, foot on the ladder leading down to the stairwell that would take you down the side of the building, when a new voice came from the general direction Venom was in.  
  
"Please, wait."  
  
Frowning, you looked up, clinging to the ladder, eyes widening a little as you watched the blackness that was Venom ripple away to reveal a rather handsome man. Steel blue eyes, strong jaw, and yeah, he was rather well built. You took another look, because you might have been depressed, but you weren't _dead_. Not yet anyway.  
  
"You shouldn't be alone right now if you're suicidal," he frowned, worry evident on his face as the inky darkness that was Venom moved around him, taking the guise of boots, blue jeans and a leather jacket atop a grey tee.  
  
"I'm fine." The lie reflexively rolled off your tongue, the only real answer that people wanted to hear when confronted with a depressed person. You'd perfected the masks needed to traverse the world while hiding what you were, and you felt one of them slip into place as you started down the ladder. "I'm sure you have better things to do."  
  
"Well, we wouldn't mind getting out of the rain. How about a cup of coffee?"  
  
Obviously crazy. Blind and crazy. No one wanted to have a cup of coffee with you. "Pass."  
  
"We don't want you to die."  
  
You froze in place at the pained tone of his voice, hands clenching around the rungs of the ladder tight enough that your knuckles turned white. "I don't need your charity," you bit out, anger rising in you, an automatic defense that had kept you at a safe distance from inquiring people attempting to 'fix you' in the past. More harm than good had been done by people trying to 'comfort' you.  
  
He was fast, and supernaturally quiet, because when you looked up from glaring at the brick wall the ladder was attached to, he was standing above you, hands resting on the upper curve of the ladder. "It isn't charity."  
  
"Pity then."  
  
"That either." He frowned. "When was the last time someone simply wanted to take you out for a coffee?"  
  
Your lips twisted, the mask slipping a little. "Never."  
  
"We find that hard to believe."  
  
Your feet hit the metal landing, and you pushed yourself away from the ladder, turning to head down the stairs. "Look, _Venom_ , I don't know what you think you're trying to do, but I don't need help. I'm a nobody, worthless, a burden. I don't need your platitudes, or your misplaced attempt at making me feel better. I'm tired, soaked to the bone, and I'm just fucking done. With _everything_. I'm sure there's someone else in the City you could help, someone who actually deserves it, so please, leave me alone."  
  
He slid down the ladder, not even bothering with the rungs, following you. "So you can go kill yourself?"  
  
"We'll see how the night goes."  
  
"...We'll bring you to a hospital."  
  
" _NO!_ " You wrenched yourself away when he moved to grab your arm, startling him with the fear in your voice. "You do that, and I'll tell them who you _really_ are! I'll tell them you kidnapped me! You are not taking me to another goddamn hospital!"  
  
"Whoa, whoa! Okay. We're sorry!" He rose his hands as he backed away from you, as far as the small landing of the stairs allowed. Then his brows furrowed as he watched you try to reign in your fear and distress. "What happened?"  
  
"You have no idea what they do with the suicidal people in hospitals, do you? In the ER, they stick you in a small room, behind a locked door, and you wait there, with a security guard outside the door, while doctors and nurses peer at you through the tiny window, until the shrink on duty finally comes down to interview you. If you can't convince them that you're alright, you get put into a seventy-two hour hold, where you're a prisoner in the hospital, while you're bombarded with questions about your _feelings_ and told that there's just 'so much to live for'. Sometimes they'll infer that you're not taking your meds, or that you're looking for attention, and you have to sit there, in a lone room, while all the doctors and nurses give you pitying looks and putter around you as if you're some interesting bug. _I. Am. Not. Going. Back. There._ "  
  
Something unnameable flitted across his face. "It's really like that?"  
  
"Three fucking times I've been committed to a hospital against my will. Same thing every time." A harsh, pained, noise left you. "So, _yeah_. It's _really_ like that."  
  
"Oh."  
  
You slicked your soaked hair out of your eyes, shaking your head as you turned and started stomping down the stars again. "Welcome to harsh reality. No one treats people with mental health problems like a human being."  
  
There was a moment of silence. "We do."  
  
"Well, you're in the fricken minority." You'd reached the bottom of the stairwell, and were now staring at the ladder that was supposed to stretch down to the alleyway below. Scowling, you gave it a kick, smirking when it released from it's lock and rattled down into place.  
  
Feeling unwieldy and huge, you carefully maneuvered your bulk over the railing, hands gripping tight as you searched for the ladder with your left foot, sneaker finally encountering it with a bang that made you feel like you'd broken a toe. Cursing, you shook feeling back into it before carefully placing the sole of your shoe onto the rung, testing it with a bit of weight, afraid that it would give way under you.  
  
When it didn't break off, you let out the breath you hadn't known you'd been holding, then quickly shimmied down the ladder before it could break, every creak and groan it made making you think it was seconds away from giving way under your sizeable weight.  
  
Only when your feet were on the ground did you relax, as much as you were able to relax anyway. A thud made you turn, a tired sigh leaving you when you saw that human-Venom had foregone the ladder completely and had just jumped to the ground. "Showoff."  
  
He quirked a smile at you. "We try."  
  
"Well, go join the Cirque de Soliel or something. I'm going home."  
  
"We'll walk you there."  
  
You sighed. "I can't get rid of you, can I?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Stalker."  
  
"Offer of coffee still stands."  
  
Well it was better than leading Venom to your apartment. "Fine. One cup. Then I'm gone and you go on your merry way."  
  
"Deal."  
  
He led you to a small Starbucks that, surprisingly, wasn't too far from your apartment. Not that you were going to share that little tidbit of info. He offered to pay, frowning when you only asked for a tea. When you'd mentioned how pissed your dietitian would be if you had anything else, he'd gotten quiet, tensing. You'd merely shrugged and turned away to go snag a table near a window, using a wad of napkins in an attempt to dry your face and hair.  
  
"Here you go." A large paper Starbucks cup was set down in front of you, the smell of Orange Pekoe wafting up to your nose. "Brought you some sugar and milk, didn't know what you'd prefer."  
  
"Thanks." You curled your cold fingers around it, sighing when the warmth of it seeped into your flesh. You tried to hide how cold you were as you reached for the little container of milk, peeling it open and prying the tea's cover off to pour it in. "Just milk is fine."  
  
He slid into the chair across from you, a large coffee in his hands. "We'd offer you our jacket, but it's..."  
  
"Attached?"  
  
A chuckle left him. "That's one way of putting it. Oh. The name's Eddie, by the way."  
  
You hesitated, weighing the dangers, before giving him your name, easily avoiding his gaze by pretending to stir the milk evenly into your tea.  
  
He fidgeted a little as the silence stretched on. "Look, we know we're not shrink material, but we really do want to help."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why what?"  
  
"Why bother? I'm--"  
  
"Please don't call yourself a nobody again."  
  
You shook your head. "But it's true. I'm no one special. There's at least a dozen women here that want your attention, just look at them. So why sit here with some ugly, fat--"  
  
"Hey." Eddie reached out to touch your hand, and you hadn't realized that you'd lost control of yourself until you felt tears on your face. Swearing under your breath, you rose your left arm to roughly rub your sleeve across your eyes. "You're not--"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
The two of you looked up at the chipper voice, your stomach souring when you saw the pretty brunette standing next to your table. Eddie looked annoyed, even as she held out a piece of paper towards him, beaming at him.  
  
"It's, ah, my number, if you ever want to date a real--"  
  
"You're being _rude_ ," he growled, eyes narrowing. "I'm with a friend."  
  
She didn't even look at you. "Well, I'm not looking for a _friend_ , hot stuff."  
  
"And I'm not looking to date some rude bitch. I'm. With. A. _Friend_."  
  
She finally slid a look towards you. "Ah. You're one of _those_." Your stomach bottomed out when she literally turned her nose up before leaving, returning to the table where her friends were waiting for her. The disgusted words 'chubby chaser' floated across the store, cruel laughter following.  
  
Eddie looked pissed. You were too tired to care anymore.  
  
"Well, thanks for the uplifting cup of tea, but I think I'm just about done now," you muttered, moving to rise to your feet, shame making your cheeks hot. You were close to tears, and all you wanted was to go home and hide from the world. Maybe take a bath and slit your wrists, because really, why stay in a world that hurt so much?  
  
"Hey, no--- Wait. Don't go."  
  
"Eddie, just---" You rose to your feet, sliding your hand away when he tried to take it. "Look, you tried, okay? More than most people have tried, if that's any consolation. But this.... _all_ of this. It's hell. Can you understand that? I'm in hell. And I want to leave."  
  
"I know what it's like," he blurted, grabbing at you, fingers tight, _tight_ against the scars and fresh cuts that lined the inside of your left arm. "It's a pit, a huge, depth-less pit. You think you've hit the bottom, but then it gets deeper, and deeper, until everything good that used to be in your life is ash and dust. You have to keep going, because it's _expected_ of you, but every step you take, every day you force yourself to endure, a little bit more of you _dies_ , until all you have left is your pain and your desperation for it to stop. But it can get better, you just have to keep _fighting_."  
  
Two big tears roll down your cheeks. " _How?_ How can I do that when I have nothing left to give?"  
  
"Let us _help_ you. _Please._ Let us help you the way someone helped me."  
  
".....okay."  
.

.

.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, warnings for discussions about Depression, Anxiety, Suicide, Self-Harm and a mention of Pedophilia (Mainly catching a Pedophile. No in depth mentions though. Just FYI)

**.**

.

.

Eddie walked you home, an arm around your shoulders in an attempt to protect you from some of the rain, that inky blackness that was Venom stretching down your back to further warm you when he realized that you were shivering. It wasn't a shiver from the cold, not totally. Most of it was from a mix of exhaustion and raw nerves. All your attempts to bottle everything back up had failed, and you couldn't stop the tears that were falling.  
  
You couldn't believe that you were being so pathetic.  
  
"Stop it."  
  
"Stop what?"  
  
"You curl into yourself when you put yourself down. That, and your scent changes."  
  
"And how the ever loving hell can you--"  
  
There was a smile in his voice. "I happen to be bonded to an alien with senses far more sensitive than any normal humans."  
  
You mulled that over for a bit, then blinked when a dark tendril extended from his shoulder to lightly touch your cheek. "Dude, this is weird."  
  
A chuckle rumbled out of him. "Oh, you have _no_ idea."  
  
Deciding that you weren't ready to deal with aliens just yet, you lead him to your building. It wasn't in the best shape, but the elevator worked, and it was thankfully free of vermin. One of the main floor tenants were loud, obnoxious, but luckily, your apartment was on the top floor, so as the elevator rose up to the eleventh floor, the noise ebbed until it was barely noticeable.  
  
Your apartment was small, but clean, except for the coffee table in front of the TV, where a plethora of beads, semi-precious stone cabochons, wire and various beading supplies covers every inch, including part of the couch. Making jewellery was really the only thing that helped you relax, a zen sort of thing. The walls of the living-room weren't decorated with pictures, but with necklaces and pendants, each one's chain hanging from a thumbtack.   
  
It was there that Eddie gravitated to, and you muttered that you need to get changed into something dry as you retreated to your bedroom, closing the door tight behind you. Your blouse and jeans were soaked through and through, and you peeled them and your wet under things off with difficulty, moving to hang everything off the edge of your dresser before going in search of dry things.  
  
After pulling on fresh underwear and a sports-bra, you rummaged through your closet, trying to find something comfortable, but appropriate for company. The scars and new cuts on your arms are hidden beneath two fingerless long purple gloves, only a bit of skin showing between them and the sleeves of a snarky tee shirt that read 'My mind is like my internet browser: at least 19 open tabs, 3 of which are frozen, and I have no clue where the music is coming from'. Blue jeans frayed at the knees completed everything, but really, you were just glad that you were dry.  
  
Your hair was still wet, and you slicked the short, wet, locks back with a brush before mustering up what little courage you had. Fighting the urge to hide in your bedroom, you shuffled out into the open concept living-room, blinking when you saw that Eddie was _still_ examining the jewellery hanging on the walls.  
  
"These are amazing," he announced when he spotted you, lightly running the pad of a fingertip across a labradorite pendant wrapped up in curls of copper wire. "You ever try selling them?"  
  
"Once. But I-- There were too many people. I don't do well in crowds."  
  
"You couldn't have asked some friends to help?" Eddie didn't notice your discomfort until the silence stretched on long enough that he shot you a worried look.   
  
"....I don't have any friends." You turned away, not wanting to see a look of pity on his face. "Depression.... It takes everything away. Shows you who your real friends are. They couldn't deal with how I was changing, so they left, and never looked back. Can't blame them, really--"  
  
"We can."  
  
The anger in his voice made you turn back, blinking when you saw that his hands were fisted at his sides, his brows drawn into a scowl as he glared at the wall. The alien that had been masquerading as his clothes shifted, flaring black and moving to cover him from neck to toe.   
  
There was a snarl, and suddenly you were standing in front of Venom. Seemed anger was a trigger to the whole transformation thing. But now what were you going to do with him? "Um...."  
  
Your voice had Venom spinning towards you, and you froze, like a deer in the headlights. Whose bright idea was it to invite him to your apartment again? 'Just to talk'. Yeah, right. You were about to die in your apartment.  
  
But Venom hesitated at your fear, taloned fingers loosening from curled fists. His voice, when he spoke, was equal parts growl and a thunder's rumble. "NO. NO LITTLE ONE, YOU DON'T HAVE TO FEAR US. WE WOULD NEVER HARM YOU."  
  
"To be fair, you're intimidating," you squeaked out, though if anyone were to ask, you'd never admit to _squeaking_. He walked over to you, moving like a predator on the prowl, and you rocked back on your heels a little when he stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his breath.  
  
One huge hand, almost twice as big as a human hand, rose, the curl of a talon lightly brushing across your cheek. "WOULD YOU LIKE US TO HUNT DOWN THE ONES THAT HURT YOU, LITTLE MORSEL?"  
  
Blinking, you fought the urge to move away. You weren't used to people touching you anymore, too accustomed to being alone. You _certainly_ weren't used to anyone calling you 'little'. "N-no, thanks. I.... I can't blame them. Not really."  
  
He growled. "YOU SHOULD," rumbled out of him like an eighteen wheeler's engine. "PEOPLE CALL _US_ A MONSTER, BUT WE WOULD NEVER ABANDON SOMEONE BECAUSE THEY'RE IN PAIN."  
  
Heat rose in you, and you felt your face flush as you dropped your gaze from his, shifting awkwardly when he carefully slid the fingers of his left hand into your hair, lightly stroking it. You'd have to muster some courage to talk about personal space.  
  
Venom made an odd sound then, a sort of snuffle, and you automatically sidestepped when he reached for your right arm, hiding both arms behind your back. "WE SMELL BLOOD."  
  
"It's nothing." Another automatic lie that you'd learned to spit out to make other people feel better and avoid the looks you got when anyone saw your scars and cuts. "Don't worry about it."  
  
"LITTLE MORSEL--"  
  
"Please stop calling me that. I'm not 'little', I'm.... fucksakes, _look_ at me! I'm ugly and huge and--"  
  
"WE DO NOT KNOW WHO TOLD YOU THESE LIES, MORSEL--"  
  
" _Harsh reality_ kinda bashed it into me," you frowned, finally putting some space between you and Venom's massive bulk. "I learned _fast_. Never open up, never trust--"  
  
He tilted his head at you, curious. "THEN WHY ARE WE HERE?"  
  
"I don't fucking know!" You spun away, raising your hands to clutch at your head for a moment before rounding on him again. "Why _are_ you here? What _possible_ reason could you have to care about some stranger you've never _even_ seen before today?!"  
  
Venom moved, slowly, perhaps recognizing that you were on the verge of either a breakdown or a screaming fit, hands held out peacefully. "OUR OTHER HALF, EDDIE, SPOKE THE TRUTH. HE WAS BROKEN ONCE. SOMEONE HELPED HIM WHEN THINGS WERE AT THEIR DARKEST. WE, SYMBIOTE, WERE ALONE, BEFORE WE FOUND EDDIE, AND BONDED, BECOMING ONE, BECOMING WHAT YOU SEE."   
  
He held a hand out, towards you, but you shook your head, arms wrapping tight around your middle, backing away. Huffing a little, he turned towards the living-room wall, reaching out to touch one of the dozens of pendants and necklaces with the tip of a talon. "YOU MAKE SUCH PRETTY THINGS, LITTLE MORSEL. YOU SEE THE BEAUTY IN THINGS WHERE OTHERS CANNOT. WE SEE THAT IN YOU. YOU ARE STRONGER THAN YOU THINK YOU ARE. WE WANT TO HELP YOU REALIZE THAT. TO LET YOU SEE YOURSELF THE WAY WE SEE YOU."  
  
"You're crazy."  
  
A bark of laughter left him. "WE'VE BEEN CALLED THAT TOO. EDDIE SAYS THAT IT MAKES US INTERESTING."  
  
You waffled over everything, overwhelmed, mind spinning, thoughts racing. Only longtime practice let you keep tight control over the panic attack that was nipping at you, though you could tell by the worried look that Venom gave you that you weren't succeeding as well as you'd hoped.  
  
Truth was best at a time where you might be falling apart. "I need to sit down."  
  
Venom instantly corralled you to your couch, a low, rock tumbler sounding noise leaving him when he saw the tremors that started to affect your hands. It sounded like an outboard motor, to be honest, but you had more pressing matters.  
  
"BREATHE, LITTLE MORSEL. BREATHE." He took one of your hands as you sat down, ignoring how you tried to pull away, and pressed your palm flat to his chest, taking exaggerated breaths. Even kneeling in front of you as he was, he was _still_ almost at eye level with you. It was.... disquieting, to be so close to something so large and dangerous.   
  
Helpless to your rising emotions, you forced your breathing to fall into sync with his. Inky black tendrils rose from his skin to lightly curl around your fingertips, keeping your hand pinned there. You could feel his heartbeat - Eddie's heartbeat, you supposed - against your palm, thudding, strong and powerful.   
  
It took almost a full fifteen minutes for you to wrestle yourself back into control, and you were exhausted by the end of it.  
  
Talons, dulled and careful, ran through your hair, thumb brushing across your cheek. It was gentle and tender, and it made you shudder, unable to remember when anyone had touched you like that.   
  
"Why?" left you in a whisper, barely audible. "No one else cares."  
  
"WE ARE NOT THEM." He leaned in, nuzzling at you, fangs ever so carefully grazing your cheek. "THE MORE WE SEE, THE MORE WE THINK HUMANS CAN BE EVEN MORE MONSTROUS THAN US."  
  
A tired, humorless, laugh left you. "Yeah." You met his pale, pupil-less gaze when he leaned back, out of your personal space. Slowly, not wanting to offend, you pulled your hand off his chest, the blackness that was symbiote releasing you, but not without a final caress to your palm. "This is overwhelming."  
  
"WANT EDDIE BACK?" Before you could say anything, the inky blackness receded, peeling away until it was Eddie that was kneeling in front of you and not Venom.  
  
You blinked. "Didn't have to do that," you muttered, feeling heat in your face when Eddie gave you a rather roguish smirk.   
  
"The symbiote thought it'd be better if I talked to you," he explained. "It didn't want to scare you."  
  
"I'm not afraid. Just...."  
  
"Overwhelmed."  
  
"Yeah. That." You were the pinnacle of conversation.  
  
"It doesn't always understand things like personal space," he said with a chuckle as he stood.   
  
Realizing that he had no where to sit, you nervously flew into action, grabbing a canvas storage cube from under the coffee table and yanking it close. All the bits of wire and stones and things were shoved off the couch, piling into it. You'd have a hell of a time untangling that mess, but at least the couch was free. "Sorry. I'm too used to living alone."  
  
"You didn't have to do that," he murmured as you used your foot to shove the bag back under the coffee table, shuffling over to give him room to sit.  
  
"Kinda did."  
  
Eddie chuckled and plopped down, sighing as the 'symbiote' shifted around him until he was dressed in boots, jeans, and a grey hoodie. "Oh, here," he patted his hip, and you watched as the 'pocket' there shifted, producing a smartphone. "We should probably trade numbers, hm? I'm busy most days at work, but I can always answer a text or twelve if you need to talk."  
  
"You really are planning on shadowing me, aren't you?" You didn't bother to hide the near constant surprise you felt when around him.  
  
"Can't offer to help and then not follow through on it, now can we? We can meet at a better coffee shop if you want. There's this bakery I go to that has the _best_ chocolate mochas. The owner's really nice. Won't stand for any of that shit you had to put up with earlier."  
  
Chocolate. Your one weakness. Sure, it'd get a holler from your dietitian, but fuck it, it'd been months since you'd had chocolate. "....alright. Just... Let me get my phone."  
  
Rising on wobbly legs - panic attacks were _draining_ as hell - you went to retrieve your phone from your shoulder bag, tossing your food journal onto the small breakfast table as you padded back to the couch. "I'm gonna be home for a while - I got fired, and all the job interviews I had today.... I don't think they panned out."  
  
"Too much stress all at once." It wasn't a question. And you realized that your breakdown had been caused by too much stress in too short a time. Why the hell hadn't you clued into that?  
  
Exhaling through your nose, you shook your head self deprecatingly. "I'm fucking clueless."  
  
"Nah. Just overwhelmed. It happens." He shot you a reassuring smile. "Here, trade me your phone for a sec, I'll give you my contact info. What job are you trying to get back into?"  
  
"I.T." you answered distractedly as you thumbed your number into his phone. "Used to dabble in programming for a bit, but I do more network debugging now than anything else. Companies keep coming out with more and more complicated software and shit, but they don't bother _teaching_ anyone how to properly use it. It's pitiful. And, more often than not, I spent my time wiping porn viruses off of the network."  
  
"That's.... gross."  
  
"You have no idea. The stuff that people look at in general is just.... ugh. There are no words. Had fun two years ago: turned a pedophile into the cops by copying his internet browser's history when I tracked which computer one of the viruses came from. Stupid idiot didn't even bother _clearing_ his history. Did the walk of shame out of the boardroom in handcuffs." A pause. "Almost got fired for that one too. Got shit from everyone afterwards for months, especially after I gave the police my statement."  
  
His steel blue eyes darkened. "What the hell for?"  
  
"Apparently I was supposed to keep things 'confidential'," you air quoted. "I got a lawyer that happened to agree with my decision to out the asshole, and some legal mumbo jumbo was spoken between her and my boss's boss and the harassment stopped. For a while anyway. Got some more shit for it sometimes, but they shut up when I told them that working for the company didn't erase my ability to be a decent human being."  
  
"You think that's why you got laid off, isn't it?"  
  
You shrugged. "I don't know for sure. It was tough, the last few months. Couldn't always keep a smile on my face, and people didn't like that. It wasn't like I was happy there anyway - I was just there for the paycheck and benefits."  
  
"Want us to look into it?" At your curious look, he gave a bit of a predatory grin. "I'm a reporter. Also a freelance journalist from time to time."  
  
"I.... I don't know." A sigh left you as you handed Eddie his phone back, your info saved into a new contact. "I've got so much to worry about, I don't know if I can handle another investigation too. Maybe once I find a new psychiatrist and get some better meds."  
  
A pause, and then a careful. "What's wrong with the old one?"  
  
You sighed, heavily. "He's... he said he won't treat me if I cut again. That if I do I'm just wasting his time."  
  
Anger made lines appear at the corners of his eyes. "Seriously?"  
  
"Yeah. And it's not like I do it to kill myself, not _really_. I just...." You clenched your hands into fists, eyes narrowing as you stared down at your feet. "Sometimes.... Sometimes it's a _shitstorm_ in my head, and I need it to _stop_. I need to get back in _control_ and it helps me do that. The meds don't fucking _work_ , and I don't have anything else I can use to control my emotions."  
  
He held his left arm out, the symbiote curling away from his wrist where it had been pretending to be an wristband, letting you see the old scars there. "I get it. Will you let us call a few people? We think we still have my old doc's number stashed away. If she's still practicing, we might be able to get you in to see her. If not, we're sure she'll give us the numbers of some that are that she trusts. That asshole that gave you that ultimatum without bothering to figure out why you're cutting? Fuck him. We'll throw him into the Bay if it'll make you feel better."  
  
"It would be a nice sight," you mused, surprised, over and over again, that Eddie - and Venom - _strangers_ up until a little over two hours ago, had been more supportive of you in that small amount of time than over a dozen people had in the span of _years_. "Eddie.... Thank you."  
  
He seemed to know the tears that gathered now weren't sad ones, but ones of stark _relief_ , because he gave you that roguish smile again and gently bumped his shoulder to yours. "Anytime."

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	3. Chapter 3

I'm honored that people like this! Also, I would KILL to meet someone like the character Maeve in this chapter.

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The next week was a whirlwind.  
  
You had three more job interviews that fell through. After doing some emergency banking, you'd gained access to your savings account - which you'd had locked to keep you out of it. You'd been hoping to buy a condo with said money, but needing a roof over your head and money for prescriptions, utilities, and food had become more important.  
  
With the money problem temporarily fixed, you'd spent a day fixing your resume and searching online job sites and newspapers for more job postings. It was disheartening to see so little job openings for an I.T. Tech. And with the big hullabaloo two years back with the investigation into the pedophile you'd exposed at work and helped incarcerate, you were beginning to think that maybe your old employer had warned others about you and that was why all your interviews had fallen through.  
  
After some waffling, and some more encouragement from Eddie, who had been texting and calling you regularly to check up on you and chat - you called and cancelled your next appointment with your asshole psychiatrist. The return voicemail had been cold, accusing you once again of wasting his time. That had sent you into a spiral of crying that had left you hollow and numb by the end of it. Eddie had offered to throw him into the Bay again, and you'd very nearly accepted the offer, just to be able to watch the fucker flail and possibly drown.  
  
One day, you'd actually taken an entire afternoon to yourself. You'd turned on Netflix - it was cheaper than cable - and thrown yourself into making more necklaces. It was calming, to just focus on something that helped quiet the constant rapid, circular, dark, thinking that usually consumed your brain. Honestly, you couldn't remember what the hell had been on TV, you'd been so absorbed in your art. It left your hands a little cramped from working with the small, specialty, needle-nose pliers, but by the end, you had six new necklaces and pendants for your wall.  
  
It was Saturday by the time Eddie had enough real time off to meet up again. He'd given you the address of that little bakery he'd spoken of, and, after waffling over whether to meet him or not, the promise of 'the best chocolate mocha in the Bay Area' had lured you out.  
  
Dressed in a silver blouse, blue jeans and a black vest - with black finger-less forearm length gloves to hide your scars - you'd taken the bus, hanging on for dear life while the potentially psychotic driver consistently floored the gas, then slammed on the breaks only feet away from the next stop.  
  
You stumbled off the bus with the urge to drop to the ground and hug the pavement in relief, slightly off-balance from the constant push and pull of gravity. You might have been suicidal, but dying in a horrible, _fiery_ , bus crash was _not_ the way you wanted to go.  
  
Eddie was waiting for you at the nearby corner, dressed in jeans and a dark blue buttoned shirt, one of his eyebrows arching upwards as he watched the bus hurtle past before screeching to a stop only a block away.  
  
"It's so much _worse_ than it looks," you told him emphatically as you got within speaking distance of him. "I like roller coasters, but that was a ride I'd rather _never_ go on again."  
  
His eyes lit up. "Roller coasters, huh? Us... Well, _me_ too. Haven't had the chance to introduce the symbiote to one yet. Maybe we'll bring you to San Jose one day. There's this _wild_ ride called the 'Patriot'. It's floorless, so you're dangling while you rocket through the loops at forty-five miles an hour. It's _awesome_."  
  
You tried not to fangirl _too_ hard. "That's at California's Great America! There's a Mass Effect ride I've been wanting to go see there!"  
  
A laugh rumbled out of him. "Paragon or Renegade Shepard?"  
  
"Paragon. Which LI?"  
  
"Honestly? Liara. You?"  
  
"Pfft. No Shepard without Vakarian. Destroy, Control or Synthesis?"  
  
"Destroy. So much destroy."  
  
You nodded, a real, honest to God, smile tugging at your lips. "Alrighty then. Let's go have that mocha."  
  
Another pleased chuckle left him as he moved to hold the door open for you, lightly touching the small of your back to guide you as you walked past him. "Passed a test, did we?"  
  
"Little bit."  
  
"Then it'll be a date. Next free day we get, we'll go and try some roller coasters and go see that ride."  
  
Your nerves kinda screeched to a halt at the 'date' word, though you didn't have a chance to re-evaluate anything as Eddie turned to wave to the bakery's owner. The plump, elderly, woman with long hair that went from white at her scalp to black at the ends, gave a happy, enthusiastic wave upon spotting him, then an equally happy gasp when her gaze moved to you.  
  
She was around the counter and pulling you into a hug before you knew what was happening, and you shot Eddie a panicked look, glaring when he merely gave you a smile and a helpless shrug in answer. Fighting the urge to wriggle free and run, you stayed silent as the bakery owner released you and held you at arms length, her deep brown eyes roving over your form as she spoke with a thick accent.  
  
" _Finally_ , a _real_ woman! Everywhere in this country, all I see are stick women. Sticks, sticks, sticks! Disgusting. Women should be _strong_ , _powerful_ , not skinny like stupid toy! Look at you! So pretty! Not like ugly 'models'. Skeletons with skin, _blegh_! Come! Sit! I just took a fresh batch of cookies out of oven! Edward, why you not bring her here before?"  
  
"Just happened to run into her last week," he commented, calmly following as the woman corralled you deeper into the bakery. "Swung her off her feet, didn't I, babe?"  
  
You shot him a dirty look over your shoulder, hoping the look conveyed the wrath and ruin that would come to him if he didn't _help you_. He merely grinned, holding a chair out for you when the owner pulled you to what she called 'the _best_ table' - that just happened to be downwind of the kitchen.  
  
Just smelling the pastries had probably added ten pounds to your hips. Your dietitian was going to have a field day.  
  
"You _knew_ this would happen," you hissed accusingly at Eddie once the two of you were seated, the owner leaving to go retrieve said 'fresh' cookies.  
  
" _Maybe_. Figured you needed a new perspective, since you didn't seem to believe us when we said you weren't ugly _or_ fat, which you _aren't_."  
  
You growled at him.  
  
He actually laughed. "Your vicious factor needs a little work." And, yeah, considering who he moonlighted as most nights, and the alien he was 'bonded' with, your pitiful attempt at a growl probably didn't phase him.  
  
Goddamn it.  
  
Huffing a sigh, you grabbed at a napkin and worried it in your hands. Ever since meeting him, and through him, Venom, he was doing a fantastic job of turning all of your world upside down. It was disorienting at best.  
  
"Hey." Your obvious rising distress wasn't lost on him as he leaned forward to lightly rest a hand on your left arm. "Breathe. It's okay. Maeve, the owner, she's really nice. We wanted you to meet someone who hasn't been poisoned by the ugly standards that society has about perceptions of beauty." When you didn't say anything, he frowned. "If it's too much, we can leave."  
  
"N-no. It's just.... A lot. I...." You rose your right hand and made a vague gesture in the air, as if that could encompass everything that was rushing through your head, scrubbing at your face afterwards.  
  
Maeve bustled back at that moment, setting a plate heaped with chocolate chip cookies on the table. "Oh! Oh, now, what is this? Don't cry, little one! What is wrong?"  
  
You answered automatically. "It's nothing. I'm--"  
  
Eddie railroaded that attempt into the ground. "I'm trying to get her to believe me when I say she isn't fat or ugly."  
  
"Ah. You have been brainwashed too! Look at me, little one. The only one's opinion you should care about is your own, hm? These movies and magazines, they are filled with fake people. My granddaughter, she showed me this, this _Photoshop_ thing. It turns ugly stick people into stars, but only on paper, eh? _Real women_ , we have curves, and stretch marks and a little extra on us, because we are _real_. We are made to _survive_. Sticky women, I worry I will sneeze and break one! I see one almost fly away in a gust of wind! Pathetic." She moved, taking your chin in her hand, forcing you to meet her gaze. "You are _beautiful_ , little one. You remind me of _me_ , before I turn old and wrinkly and my boobs hit the floor! I used to have men at my beck and call in my country. Here, men think stick women are pretty. It just shows how _stupid_ the men in this country are, hm? Ah, minus present company! I did not mean you, Edward."  
  
He sent you a reassuring look, obviously aware of how flustered you felt. "No, no, go on. This is good for her."  
  
"It is good to hear, no?" Maeve smiled wickedly. "Listen to me, little one. Eat well, live well, love well. Do not be like stupid stick women, dieting and getting surgery and bigger boobs, for what? A _man_? Bah. I would spit, but I just finished washing the floors!"  
  
You just blinked at her, rather overwhelmed by the whole debacle. Maeve, possibly recognizing the stunned look on your face, merely laughed and patted your cheek. "Here now, little one, eat a cookie. Edward! Chocolate mocha?"  
  
"Times two, please."  
  
"Of course!"  
  
You watched her bustle off, stunned. Well, that had been an experience. You blinked some more, then slowly turned your gaze to Eddie, who was smiling at you. "I.... actually don't know what to say to all that."  
  
"Kinda impossible to argue with, isn't she?" he grinned, plucking a cookie from the plate and holding it out to you. "Here. Chocolate helps."  
  
"My dietitian will have a fit," you muttered as you accepted the still warm cookie, staring at it for a moment before shrugging and taking a bite. It was warm, the chocolate gooey, and you almost, _almost_ , moaned.  
  
"Meh. Send them to, Maeve. We'll bring the popcorn."  
  
"Send the blond, ripped, _skinny_ , dietitian to Maeve. Yeah, _that'll_ go over well."  
  
He shook his head with a chuckle. "Why did you decide to go anyway?"  
  
"It wasn't voluntary," you sighed. "My therapist said I'd be happier if I wasn't fat."  
  
"You're kidding." At your shake of the head, Eddie's gaze darkened. "What a prick. Oh! That reminds us!" He patted at his shirt pocket, the 'material' there moving a little before he pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Managed to get in touch with my old shrink. She's still working, private practice and all that jazz. Said she'd love to hear from you if you're willing to give her a call."  
  
You closed your fingers around the slip of paper, unfolding it and staring at the neatly written phone number there. "Eddie, this is.... You didn't have to do this."  
  
"Why not? She's a good doc. Better than that prick you were seeing."  
  
"A rampaging bear would be kinder than he was, yes. I meant that you didn't have to go out of your way like this."  
  
"Two phone calls is hardly what we'd call 'out of our way'."  
  
You shook your head, unable to articulate what you wanted to say.  
  
He frowned a little. "No one's ever helped you like this before, have they?" When you shook your head again, still mute, he picked up another cookie and offered it to you. You obligingly took it, letting the taste of chocolate and rich batter override your senses for a moment. "We said we'd help."  
  
"Is that all this is?" You winced at that. That _wasn't_ what you'd meant to say. Not at all. You'd known him for a week, for fuck's sake. There was no _possible_ way--  
  
"If that's what you want. Though, honestly, we're very interested in becoming more than just your friend."  
  
That made you jerk your head up to stare at him, only long drilled in manners from your grandmother keeping you from actually _gaping_ at him. "Awah?" Oh yes. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.  
  
Eddie laughed, a real belly laugh, and you groaned and dropped your reddened face into your hands, mentally willing the floor to open up and swallow you whole.  
  
Damned floor didn't listen either. Bastard.  
  
"More tears?" Maeve asked worriedly as she returned with the two mochas.  
  
"I'm an idiot," you lamented into your hands, groaning again when you heard Eddie snicker.  
  
"Luckily idiots can still drink. Here."  
  
Maeve wasn't helpful.  
  
Sighing, you rose your head from your hands, blinking at the drink that had been set in front of you. It was in a tall glass mug, liquid chocolate concoction topped with a generous layer of whipped cream, chocolate flakes and what appeared to be a slightly melted marshmallow.  
  
You were sure you could hear your dietitian scream in horror.  
  
It smelled _delicious_. Glancing at Maeve, who gestured at you to go ahead, you plucked the marshmallow off the top, used it to scoop up some whipped cream, then popped it in your mouth. Oh, god, it was _real_ whipped cream, and the marshmallow was gooey and just the perfect amount of melted. This woman would be the death of you.  
  
"Good, yes?"  
  
"Ohmigod, I might move in here," you gushed as you carefully took a sip, the mix of coffee, chocolate and whipped cream quite possibly the best thing you'd tasted in months.  
  
"Excellent! You and Edward will always be welcome here! Oh, excuse me." She was gone in a swirl of skirts, her voice echoing pleasantly through the small shop. "Marcell! I have those cupcakes you ordered! Let me get them from the back!"  
  
You blinked after her for a moment, then sent a wary glance towards a still grinning Eddie. "You were of no help what so ever."  
  
"Wasn't aware you needed help," he said, that grin gaining a real 'shit-eating' tint. "You were doing so well on your own."  
  
You grumbled around the next sip of mocha, glaring at him a little as you reached out to snag another cookie.  
  
"Admit it. You feel better, don't you?" When you mumbled something that might have been an affirmation, Eddie leaned in and smirked. "What was that?"  
  
"I said 'drink your mocha'," you muttered, glaring a little when he grinned knowingly before picking up his mug and gently clinking it against yours.  
  
"Chocolate heals everything."

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	4. Chapter 4

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You left that Shop with a bag full of a dozen cookies, a fresh bagette, and three chocolate dipped donuts. You'd have ended up with twice that if you hadn't managed to talk Maeve down from loading you up with as much baked goods as you could carry. Eddie, naturally, had been of _no help_ what so ever, merely holding the door open with a grin as you shuffled out with a paper bag full of calories.  
  
At least he'd been kind enough to accompany you back to your apartment, his disgust at the drivers of the bus transit systems making you snicker. He'd promised to either come get you on his motorcycle, or for Venom to websling you where ever you needed to go, before he or the symbiote ever let you onto another one of those 'fucking things' again.  
  
Mentally reviewing the day that night - Supernatural playing in the background while you worked on a new necklace - you found yourself surprised. All in all, it had been a good day. You'd hardly had anything even close to a panic attack, and while the introduction to Maeve had tilted things in your world view on it's side, having Eddie there had helped keep you grounded.  
  
It was starting to worry you, how much Eddie seemed to act like a buffer to things that would have usually sent you into a mental pit. Maybe it was because he, like you, had experienced depression at it's fullest, and he _understood_ , what the darkness in your head was like. He didn't push you to do things that might trigger you, and let you deal with things at your own speed - Maeve not withstanding, because you didn't think that woman moved at anything other than the speed of a tornadic whirlwind.  
  
It was a surprising balm. Eddie was coaxing you to come out of your shell, but in small enough steps that you didn't want to make a run for the hills. His promise to bring you to that Park with the roller coasters might be a little much, but you had emergency sedatives you could take to keep yourself 'level' if needed.  
  
One thing that was keeping you on your toes was the small touches. Nothing bad, of course -you'd punch him in the throat if it was - but you hadn't had anyone try to hold your hand, or curl an arm around your shoulders in.... years? You just weren't used to being touched anymore. Depression had held you in an empty, lonely, bubble for almost a decade, and you hadn't realized how detached you'd become.  
  
Again, he seemed to understand. Merely brushed his fingers against yours in askance, letting you choose whether or not to accept the touch. The warm smile he'd given you when you'd reached back to twine your fingers with his had made your stomach flip, in a good way.  
  
Though, you worried about that. Were you just crushing on the first person that had shown you kindness in years, or was this something more real, that you'd merely never had before? Sure, you'd dated, back in college years, but really, those had been puppy loves, nothing lasting past graduation.  
  
You needed a sounding board, and for this, Eddie wasn't going to be it. You'd have to give that psychiatrist he gave you the number for a try, and hope she wasn't going to end up like your other, asshole, doctor. Because you were honestly starting to realise that you couldn't trust your own brain. You were beginning to see that it was probably lying to you. And if it was, how could you possibly manage to unravel the truth from it's own twisted view?  
  
That little epiphany rattled around your thoughts, keeping you from fully focusing on either the pendant or the TV, until you gave up, took your meds, and went to bed, around three am.  
  
Your phone's custom ringtone of Mass Effect's 'Suicide Mission' score woke you sometime the next morning. You didn't quite know when, because you knocked the clock off the nighttable while groping for said phone.  
  
Cursing, hoping it wasn't broken, you finally managed to find the phone, peered at it until it solidified enough for you to thumb the right button, then pulled it to your ear. "Mnfpt?"  
  
Eddie's warm chuckle echoed into you. "'Hi' to you too! We're in the area, thought we'd take you out for lunch."  
  
Lunch? You shot to your feet, scrambling for the knocked over clock and staring at the blue LED numbers in shock. "Holy shit it's noon!"  
  
"Did we wake you? Sorry, babe. Didn't mean to."  
  
You felt your face turn red. "Nonono. This is fine. This is good. I just.... Uh..... Lunch. Yeah. Okay. I need.... Twenty minutes? No, fifteen. I can be ready in fifteen."  
  
"You're sure?" He sounded highly amused by your babbling.  
  
You, meanwhile, were already digging through your closet, tossing clean jeans and a purple blouse in the general direction of the bed. "Yes! Totally. Sure, sure."  
  
There was a definite smile in his voice. "We'll be there in fifteen then."  
  
Scrambling, you bolted for the bathroom in a flurry of activity. Doing makeup while brushing your teeth was an experience, but you'd perfected the art of sleeping in as late as possible and being up and out the door in twenty minutes.  
  
You were dressed and in the middle of digging through your extensive collection of fingerless arm-length gloves for something that would match when the phone rang again. Pulling one glove on with your teeth, you didn't look at the ID before answering. "Y'ello?"  
  
Your mother's voice woke you up the rest of the way, and not in the good way. "Well, I see you're enjoying the unemployed life. Taking time off from finding a new job?"  
  
Your thought procresses screeched to a halt. "Hi Mom. Good morning to you too."  
  
"It's almost _noon_."  
  
"Good afternoon, then."  
  
There was a sigh. "Are you even looking for work?"  
  
And here came the bit where you wished you had checked the caller ID before answering. "Yes, mother. I'm looking. I have my resume online and I already did three interviews this week as well as five last week."  
  
"Well.... good. Your father says you can come home, but really, I think you're far too old to be falling back on us for support."  
  
There went that little bit of self respect you'd managed to gather up that week. "I'm aware." There was a knock at the door, and you went to answer, trying to smile at Eddie as you gestured for him to come in before making sign that you'd be only a moment on the phone.  
  
Your mother ignored the dull tone that had been in your voice. "And your diet, how's that going? Have you lost any weight yet?"  
  
The indifferent, already disproving, tone of her voice made you clench your eyes shut, turning away from Eddie so he couldn't see your expression crumble. "No."  
  
"Well, try _harder_ then." You could practically _see_ her putting her nose up in disgust. She'd been the first to start critiquing you on your weight when you'd started to gain due to the side effects of your depression medications. "Really now, why don't you join a gym and do some actual exercise? It's not like you don't have the free time now that you can't use your job as an excuse anymore."  
  
"I was working a nine to five job, mother. I do need to sleep." You could _feel_ Eddie's worried gaze on your back, and you rose your free hand to roughly shove your fingers through your hair.  
  
"You could have gone instead of tinkering with those silly rocks"  
  
And people wondered why you were depressed. "I _like_ making jewellery!"  
  
"It's a waste of time and money. Honestly, dear, you always did get distracted by the silliest things. First that stupid thing with the sharks, then those computers, and now those rocks. You'll _never_ get a man at this rate. It's a good thing your sister is married, otherwise I'd _never_ have _any_ grandchildren."  
  
Your sister. The perfect one in the family. Fucksakes. You were so tired of being compared to little miss corporate CEO with the perfect lawyer husband and two perfect children that never saw their parents but that was fine because they were _successful_.  
  
You scratched at the inside of your right arm through the material of the glove, the scars and healing cuts there beginning to itch with your rising need to cut for relief. "Thanks, Mom. Always nice to know how much of a failure I am to you."  
  
Eddie moved into your line of sight at that, the worry on his face mixing with anger when you gave him a watery, helpless, look.  
  
" _Why_ do you always twist my words around like that?" There was steel in your mother's voice. "I'm _not_ the bad guy here."  
  
"But I am?"  
  
"Again, twisting my words."  
  
A sigh left you. You were done. "I have to go. Say 'hi' to Dad for me." _Tell him that he should divorce you for being a bitch._  
  
You hung up before she could say anything else, tossing your phone onto the small breakfast table before walking to the couch, picking up one of the decorative cushions and raising it to your face so you could _scream_ your pain and frustration it.  
  
Not even awake for a full twenty minutes, and, already, your mood was obliterated for the day.  
  
Your mother had always been able to decimate you in the span of a single sentence. No wonder your brain was fucked up if she had raised you. You'd never been good enough in her eyes, too independent, too 'wild'. You'd never wanted to be like your older sister, who your mother had groomed into the 'perfect' daughter long before you'd been born. _She_ had been planned. _You_ had not.  
  
Hands gently took yours, pulling the cushion away from your face, and you wondered how badly you'd fucked up your makeup as you met Eddie's gaze. There was a worry and protectiveness there that surprised you, and you tried for some sort of expression that hid how shitty you felt.  
  
You obviously failed, because he plucked the cushion from your hands, tossed it onto the couch, then wrapped you up into a full on hug.  
  
Hugs. God, you'd forgotten how _good_ hugs were.  
  
Your arms automatically went around him, fingers clutching at his back as you hid your face in his shoulder. The symbiote masquerading as his clothes shifted under your hands, curling little tendrils around your fingers and wrists, another bit lashing out to coil around your waist.  
  
"We take it she's not supportive," Eddie murmured into your hair, his arms tightening around you when you let out a laugh that was partly a sob.  
  
"I was never smart enough, pretty enough, or successful enough. Not like my sister. The perfect one in the family." You sniffled a little. "And my Dad's a fucking coward. Wouldn't be able to stand up to her if his life depended on it."  
  
"We're sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault." A tired sigh left you, and when it seemed that Eddie wasn't planning on letting you go anytime soon, you leaned into a him a little, relief welling up in you when you found him strong and unmoveable - you'd honestly been afraid you'd knock him over.  
  
"Don't worry, we got you," he murmured into your hair, tucking you closer when your grip on him turned a little desperate. Maybe the symbiote clued him in, you hade no idea, but Eddie shifted his left hand to the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair. "Your Mum's full of shit."  
  
A bark of semi-hysterical laughter left you. "She'd hate you."  
  
"Good. We're not all that fond of her either."  
  
You had a brief mental image of your mother's face if you introduced Venom as your boyfriend and hiccuped another laugh. Eddie made a noise of curiousity, pulling away a little to look down at you. "Sorry," you snickered. "Mental images."  
  
He quirked an eyebrow at you. "Care to share?"  
  
"Just imagining a meeting between her and Venom."  
  
A laugh left him, his right hand rising to wipe the few remaining tears from your face. "We could make that happen, just to see you smile."  
  
You blushed. "That would entail her coming to San Francisco, so pass. Also, the screaming. There'd be lots of screaming."  
  
"Yeah. The symbiote's not a fan of screaming."  
  
"Trust me, no one is a fan of that woman screaming. Especially me. Mostly because I was the one she was screaming at." A sigh left you, and you dropped your gaze from his, gripped by your usual anxiety and lack of self esteem. "I was never good enough for her."  
  
Eddie wrapped you back into a hug, his voice slightly muffled against your hair as he spoke. "My Pop's the same. My Mum.... She died giving birth to u-- to me." You tightened your own arms around him at the sadness in his voice. "Pop.... I don't know. I think the ability to love died with her. He made sure I had the best things, the best education, the best new toys and stuff, but he really wasn't a _Dad_. I was pretty much raised by the maid. I did everything I could - honour student and top pick for track and field and wrestling in high school, graduated with honours from college and university, got this gig as a reporter.... but nothing's ever made him give a shit. Ms. Dempsey, the maid, says he loves me, but I'm not so sure. I see kids close with their folks, and I wonder what it's like, y'know?"  
  
"Yeah. My sister.... Well, Mom groomed her into the perfect daughter, so they get along _famously_. I used to be jealous of her, when I was younger. Now, I feel sorry for her."  
  
"Wanna go have a 'our parents fucked us up' drink?"  
  
"Fuck, yes."  
  
"That's our girl."

.

.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, my mom was never like the one portrayed here - that was my grandmother. I was never good enough for her. And all of my aunts (except the one cool one) thought I wasn't good enough either - my cousins were better than me in every way. So I kinda used my experiences with them in this chapter.


End file.
